In You
by psiten
Summary: In a world where Subaru didn't stumble upon Seishirou at the age of sixteen, how might the year of the bet have gone when they did finally meet?


_**Disclaimer:** the original manga Tokyo Babylon and X are the work of CLAMP. Characters, settings, and events have been adapted without authorization or approval, and I am making no profit from their use._

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**..: In You :..**

_**{alternatives}**_

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_"You cannot save anyone."_

The words hung in the air, the office quiet and still. He had seen enough. "You may have more spiritual power than ordinary people," he charged her. "But you cannot understand another person's pain. Although you pretend to understand, you cannot save anyone at all."

"Very true," an unexpected voice responded -- a man's voice, deep and soft, echoing from the door that had opened unnoticed. Kumiko-san whipped her head toward the sound. Subaru stood firm.

The atmosphere had changed abruptly with the opening of the door. There was no question of _what_ this man was: a practitioner, warded and primed to strike. Moreover, he was strong -- strong enough to be a threat if he chose to be, and Subaru could feel his intentions. The cold, predatory instinct fixed on Kumiko-san filled the room so quickly that he thought at first he might choke. The drift of it was like an early spring breeze, chill on the skin and scented with a faint breath of cherries in bloom.

_Sakurazukamori_, his gut screamed at him, echoing a thousand warnings from as long ago as he could remember.

Subaru turned enough to examine the man, taking care to keep Kumiko-san in his sight. He wasn't old -- only a few years past youth -- and dressed in a dark suit with a trenchcoat that could have belonged to any anonymous passerby. The only truly remarkable thing was the gaze he'd locked on the director of the institute: a single-minded ruthlessness void of passion or anger or justice. It wasn't even murder in his eyes. It was nothing but death.

The man took an unhurried step forward, moving to pass Subaru without a second glance.

"Who are you?" Subaru called out, stepping between the man and Kumiko-san. He reached for the ofuda in his pocket, silently working the spell to strengthen his own wards. The attack his opponent had prepared didn't care whom it killed.

Those eyes had turned on him now, and the golden light that reflected off them in the darkness reminded him of a hawk -- he, now, the prey. Then all at once, a flash of some thought passed over the man's face. The cold hardness of his eyes melted, and an incongruous smile broke his lips. "Well, well," the stranger said in a voice shockingly warm with amusement. "We always meet at the most inconvenient times, you and I."

"What?" Subaru questioned. The heavy, deadly atmosphere that had come in the door with the man dropped away swiftly, the change so sudden that he hadn't even noticed his opponent slipping inside his guard. Taking in the touch of a finger on his cheek, the smile that now resembled the bare fangs of a wolf, the conspicuous absence of the threatening aura that Subaru knew was still there -- every warning his grandmother had ever given about how he should stay far from this man was inconsequential beside half a moment in his presence.

He hadn't planned on dying easily, but even as he shifted his foot to step away and summon up a shielding spell, he could feel the stranger's touch freeze him in place. It was as if fear had rooted him there; the Sakurazukamori's spell moved like a shadow into his every limb. The sense of a solid floor beneath his feet vanished and his muscles went slack. Even as his mind slipped away into darkness, he felt the stranger catch him, and -- somehow -- death didn't terrify him at all. There was something comfortably familiar in these arms, something he remembered in the eyes staring back across the darkness.

_I know you..._ was the last thought in Subaru's mind before he surrendered consciousness.

"Hush," the man said, his voice echoing close to Subaru's ear. "Sleep quietly now."

~//~

The woman lay dead on the floor, and Seishirou paged through an open file on her desk. "Sumeragi Subaru. Such a surprise. It's a pity we've no time to play." The file contained a bare outline about the boy: a school name (CLAMP Gakuen, his own alma mater), a birthday (no doubt false), an address (of which he had a need). After running through the unfortunate necessities of sanitizing the boy's mind, he would drop him at his home, none the wiser. Were it anyone else, the trespasser would already be dead; but they two had unfinished business. Kneeling by the side of the couch, Seishirou picked up one gloved hand and traced a pattern over the back. He could almost feel the raised line of the scar where he'd left his mark here years before. There was a spell woven into the glove itself that blocked the traces of it, delaying his hunt so many years so far. Then again, he was in no hurry.

Let the boy grow. What would it matter?

"You're still adorable, _Subaru-kun_. Were you concerned for that woman as well? Perhaps you thought you could _save_ her." He wrapped his hand around the unconscious boy's throat, feeling the pulse and the breath running through the fragile little thing. "I should call in our bet, should I not? Shall I say this is our second meeting?" It might be more of a challenge than he'd expected, if he were to leave those memories intact so that the prey knew the hunter on sight.

It was too bad, really, but there were older rules to obey than the terms of their little wager. Rules that governed who could and could not witness the Sakurazukamori kill: only one of them could walk away with a memory of this chance encounter.

He would have to satisfy his curiosity another day. Seishirou leaned his head close to the boy's, running his fingers along the fine lines of a pale, pretty cheek up to the pulse at his temple. He sought out the memories he needed to purge as he whispered -- if the Sumeragi could still hear, any words now would be nothing more than a dream half-remembered.

"But I suppose I can let you run a bit longer, Subaru-kun."

. . . . . .

_Do you still hate Tokyo?_


End file.
